


Small

by WorryinglyInnocent



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-27 14:07:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/662865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorryinglyInnocent/pseuds/WorryinglyInnocent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[First posted on FF.net] Alone in a car at the town boundary, Mr Gold waits for a delivery that will, one day, change the lives of all Storybrooke forever. A very small delivery…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small

Gold sits alone in the car at the boundary of Storybrooke, knowing that attempting to drive any further is not a good idea. He has no intention of having any freak accidents, especially since the car is not even his. It’s Regina’s. He thinks back over the events of the past few months that have led him to this moment. Eighteen hellish and monotonous years into this curse and Gold has been keeping tabs on their Saviour, Miss Swan as she is known. He knows where she is, what she’s doing, how she’s getting on. He knows she has given up a son for adoption, and he knows how their distinguished but so very lonely Madame Mayor longs for a child. What better way to kill two proverbial birds with one proverbial stone?

After he had broached the subject of adoption with Regina, the rest of the process had been a comparatively simple one, if tedious and drawn out at times. Several phone calls and a few only borderline illegal Internet transactions later, and the deal was struck. Gold is used to dealing in infants from a previous life, a life that he has not forgotten, and never will. 

So here he sits, alone in the dark, the engine off and the headlights on, waiting for their Saviour’s child to come to them. Ten years down the line she will come for him, or perhaps he will go to her. Either way, he will be the link that unites Saviour to Storybrooke. He will be the catalyst that breaks the curse and sets them free. 

A car pulls up on the other side of the boundary and the ignition is killed. A woman gets out of the driver’s seat and Gold leaves his vehicle. They meet at the boundary in the beams of the headlights. 

“Mr Gold?” The woman squints in the light. “I’m Angela, we spoke on the phone.”

“We did.”

His answer divulges no more information than necessary and this seems to unnerve her. 

“You’ve come to collect the baby and take him to his new mother,” she presses on.

“That is correct.”

“But you’re not his new father.”

“No.” There is a pause in which Angela obviously expects more information, but will not receive it. She looks nervy, as if she expects her superiors to jump out of the bushes and have her arrested for her unorthodox transactions. 

“If I get caught…” she warns. Gold resists the urge to roll his eyes. He and Regina have taken enough precautions; this adoption will be perfectly legitimate and the only odd part is the clandestine manner of the exchange. 

“I know what happens,” he says. 

They look at each other for over a minute before something in Gold’s patient, placid stance appears to unnerve Angela even further and she goes to the back of her car, carefully taking the baby out of his carseat and bringing him over. He’s fast asleep and Gold wonders if Angela slipped a Valium into his evening milk. He holds out his arms but she is evidently reluctant about handing the child over. Perhaps a small part of her still believes that there is no adoption going on here and Gold is simply going to boil the boy alive and eat him. 

Even in this land without magic, the aura of Rumpelstiltskin lingers, however faintly.

Finally she gives him the boy and Gold cradles him with a sadly practised hand. The memories of fatherhood are painful and unbidden. The ghost of a smile flickers across Angela’s face and she seems to relax, if only minutely, for the first time since she arrived. 

“You’re a father yourself,” she murmurs. “No man is so comfortable holding a baby unless he’s held his own.”

Gold nods, but says nothing. There is no point, since any piece of offered information will engender tiresome explanation, and Gold has no desire to share his life’s story with this woman, however entertaining the yarn would be. Thankfully, Angela does not press the point. 

“Well,” she says eventually, but she’s speaking to the child and not to him. “I guess this is goodbye, little one.” She looks up at Gold. “See that he’s taken care of,” she says sternly.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

And in that moment, Gold knows he will. 

Angela nods and gets back into her car; it seems that parting with an infant under her care is always painful. Before long she’s just another light on the horizon. The   
deal was so quick and simple when it came down to it. It reminds Gold of the old days. He looks down at Regina’s new son; he stirred when the car left and now looks up at Gold with a sort of perplexed expression, as if to say ‘who the hell are you and why are we standing out here in the cold?’ before mentally shrugging, snuggling into the crook of Gold’s elbow, giving an almighty yawn and going back to sleep. Gold carefully shifts his hold on the boy so that he can get a grip on his cane and walk round to the back of the car to strap him in – Regina is nothing if not prepared. Getting back into the driver’s seat, he glances back in the rear view mirror. 

“Well kid, you’ll make us or break us.” He gives a snort of wry laughter. “Just think. In a few years you might realise you’ve been adopted by your step-great-grandmother, and if that doesn’t kickstart the mission to break the curse then I don’t know what will.”

He starts the engine, turns the car around and makes his way back towards the town, going as slowly and smoothly as possible, eyes flickering to the mirror every half a minute to check his charge’s sleep is undisturbed. He wonders what Regina will name him. Daniel or Henry, he supposes. He doesn’t look like a Daniel or a Henry at the moment though. He’s too small for a name like that. There was a reason that he’d always shortened Baelfire’s name when he was a babe, and it wasn’t ease of pronunciation. 

God only knows what his parents were high on when they called him Rumpelstiltskin. 

So, for the time being, Gold decides to call the boy Small, because it really wouldn’t do to get too attached when he has to hand him over to Regina in ten minutes. 

“Ready to meet Great-Granny, Small?” he asks as he pulls into the drive. He can see Regina standing in an upstairs window, watching for him anxiously. Soon enough she appears at the door and half-walks, half-runs towards them, almost as if she simply cannot bring herself to show Gold how long she’s been biting her nails for in anticipation. Gold can’t tell whether she’s eager to meet her new son or worried that he was going to wreck her car. It does make him wonder why she didn’t want to come with him, to be there at the exchange. Perhaps she, like Angela, is worried for the legality of the proceedings; it wouldn’t be doing for an upstanding mayor to be involved in illicit transactions now, would it?

Regina’s opened the back door before Gold’s even got out of the car, so desperate is she to get her hands on her child. Unfortunately, the baby senses this, wakes up, and begins to wail in a manner very reminiscent of a distressed cow. Gold raises an eyebrow in the wing mirror as he gets out. Babies, all babies, in this world or any other, are susceptible to bad vibes and black magic, and the stuff emanates from Regina in waves. Not, of course, that Gold himself is free from its taint, but he’s obviously managed to inspire the same trust in the boy by dint of a practised hand that he had in Angela. 

Small is still wailing as he makes his way around the car, and the noise is beginning to grate because Regina doesn’t seem to have the first clue about how to calm him. Gold looks at her and holds out his arms for the child. Regina takes a protective step backwards and Gold rolls his eyes. 

“Do you want him to wake the entire neighbourhood?” he asks. “No? Then let me hold him. I’ve got experience with babies.”

Regina raises an eyebrow. Gold matches her like for like.

“I’ve got more experience than you, Mayor, at any rate.”

Reluctantly, Regina hands the child over and Gold settles him as before, leaning on the passenger side of the car.

“Shh, Small,” he says, rocking him gently back to sleep. 

“Small?” hisses Regina incredulously.

“Well, I don’t know what you’re going to call him, and it seems a fitting description.” The boy finally quietens. Now his expression seems to be saying ‘well, you know what you’re doing, what did you let that stupid woman near me for?’

“How did you do that?” asks Regina.

Gold shrugs minutely, he can’t exactly move his arms much with Small in them. 

“Babies are like anyone else, Ms Mills. They don’t appreciate being unceremoniously woken up.” He looks down at the child, now dozing again, and holds him out to Regina slightly. In this moment, Small looks too much like Bae, and if he holds him any longer, he won’t be able to give him back.

Regina takes her son back.

“Henry,” she says decisively. “I’m going to call him Henry.”

Gold had already surmised as much.

“Well, I believe my work here is done.” Gold turns on his heel and makes his way down the darkened drive. 

“Thank you, Mr Gold.”

He doesn’t turn back until he reaches the street, when he’s far enough away to risk it. He wonders how events will play out ten years down the line. Only time will tell. Gold smiles to himself.

“I’ll see you around, Small.”


End file.
